Nothing On Beatrice
by Alexis Feynman
Summary: Dean finally figures out what that thing is between him and Castiel, and has absolutely no idea how to handle it. One-shot. Destiel, if it's not obvious. Asexual!Cas.


Dean Winchester had an unspoken love for showers. In the chaotic mass of combat and paranoia that had become his life, it was a soothing ritual. He loved the heat, the sound and feel of rushing water, and the sound of his own off-key crooning, which of course he'd deny ever doing later that day. He loved the feeling of momentary isolation – being completely cut off from the demons and other problems that otherwise kept him on the edge – and the simple, tactile feeling of a day's worth of sweat and grime sliding off his body, like he was washing away whatever bullshit encounter had put it there in the first place.

It was the one point in his day when he felt completely relaxed.

The feeling ended way too early, when he turned off the water and suddenly noticed the sound of a running television. His body tensed immediately, and he was reaching for his pants almost before he knew what he was doing. That hadn't been running when he'd gotten into the shower. In fact, he hadn't turned on the television all day, and unless Sam was back from his grocery run four hours early, he hadn't either. That left only one possibility: that some_thing_ had gotten in, past the locked door and half-dozen wards, and was now sitting on the couch watching some show like a cocky son of a bitch. The fact that whatever it was hadn't attacked him already was probably a good sign, but he wasn't taking any risks. Taking hold of the knife he'd left on the bathroom counter, he cautiously twisted the knob of the bathroom door, easing it open and scanning each inch of the room. There was no one by the door, no one by Sam's bed...

And on the couch, one very, _very_ familiar trenchcoat, draped over a pair of very familiar shoulders.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief, throwing the door open and tossing his knife back onto the counter. "Cas. The hell are you doing here?"

Castiel, who lacked the basic human decency of even pretending to be startled, glanced up at Dean with that one look he often had, the one that was both guilty and completely unapologetic. "I need to speak with you. I thought you would prefer if I did not interrupt your shower."

Dean couldn't really argue with that logic. He couldn't help but wonder, though, why Cas had just let himself in and waited, instead of popping in _after_ he was done with his shower. "OK, what's up?"

Castiel didn't respond immediately. He glanced downward – a look that Dean knew all too well; he was afraid of what he was about to say. Dean waited patiently as the angel stood up, gave an almost imperceptible glance around the room as if reassuring himself that they were alone, and finally raised his eyes in quiet resolve.

"I've been contacted by Crowley."

Dean's eyebrows raised, and he forcibly suppressed a sudden and uncomfortable urge to let out a less-than-human growl. Disdain for Crowley or not, he didn't need to give Cas – or anyone, really – any idea that his time as a demon had been anything more than a passing phase. "What did he _want?_"

"He wants my help in locating one of the missing Angelic weapons. The Sword of Joshua."

Dean was only vaguely aware of the significance, but it sounded like a weirdly magnanimous gesture on Crowley's part. "OK?"

"The Sword of Joshua has been missing for centuries. It's a weapon of unfathomable power, possessing the ability to annihilate humans by the sound of its grace alone."

"...OK. So, Crowley definitely should _not_ be getting his hands on it."

"It is also a priceless artifact that many of my kind have sought to retrieve. In its rightful place in Heaven, the sword would serve as a beacon of hope and power for the angels."

"It belongs in a museum?"

Castiel frowned. "It is much more valuable than a small, decorative cross."

"Wow," Dean muttered. He still didn't know _how_ Castiel had managed to start getting his references, but it wasn't helping. At all. "All this time I thought you were clueless, but it turns out you just don't have a sense of humor."

"The sword is not a joking matter-"

"OK, OK. Forget it. So, what do you want me for?"

"To let you know where I would be going. And that I may be out of contact for several days."

Dean had a double-take. "Cas, you take off all the time. It's fine. We're used to it."

"...I know."

It didn't take a genius to tell that Castiel was hiding something. He had this habit of looking at anything but the person he was talking to – whether it was the wall, the furniture, or like today, the floor. "Cas, what's going on?"

The angel paused for a moment, then gave a long, drawn-out sigh. "There's nothing, Dean. I just wanted you to know."

_Yeah._ That was bullshit, and both of them knew it. He stared at Castiel, silently daring him to leave it at that.

He didn't.

"Since you became a demon, I've been... worried about you. You and Sam. If anything were to happen to you, I..." Castiel's voice trailed off, but the haunted look in his eyes said everything. He really _did_ worry about Dean, the poor son of a bitch.

"It's OK, Cas. Sammy and I will look out for each other. Like we always do."

Castiel nodded. "I know."

Dean figured that now was about the right time for the angel to poof away, but he just stood there, looking helplessly up at Dean like he was expecting something else. Dean, who was starting to feel awkward, took a shuffling glance around the room – and stopped suddenly at the sight of the television screen.

There were dudes on the television. Two of them. And they were... _touching_ each other.

Dean switched the TV off quickly, but took the opportunity to change the subject. "Uh... interesting choice of programming there, Cas."

Castiel shrugged. "It was no worse than the other channels."

"Really? You still watch porn just because it's _on?_"

"I thought I wasn't supposed to talk about it."

"No, you're right. You're not." Still, Dean kept glancing between Castiel and the television, gears clicking in his head as his mind worked the whole idea over. "I just..."

To be honest, he just hadn't _thought_ of Cas that way. As someone who might watch gay porn. Castiel wasn't the kind of guy to talk or think about sex, and even when he _did_, it had always involved a woman. The idea of Cas watching two guys going at it...

Well, it made him consider possibilities that he could have happily gone his whole life not considering.

"I should go," said Castiel. He had that look again. The "I'm probably guilty and I'd like to clear out now" look that always made Dean feel both responsible and slightly frustrated, like he'd just disappointed a puppy. Except there wasn't a puppy on Earth that was half as important to Dean, although that was a subject he did _not_ need to worry about, thank you very much.

He held up a hand. "Wait."

Dean had thought the angel wouldn't listen, but when he looked up, Castiel was still there – hair mussed as always, jaw slightly tense, warm eyes filled with confusion and that incredible, _bottomless_ innocence. He'd seen that face a thousand times before, but that didn't explain what was going on right now. It didn't give him a clue why his heart was suddenly pounding, or why he had to work to keep his mouth shut, or why he was feeling _things_ in parts of his anatomy that he did _not care to think about right now_. He didn't want to think about it. Didn't _need_ to think about it.

Having made up his mind, he decided he was done with the subject, but the memo never had time to make it to his mouth. "Why _did_ you watch it?"

_Goddamnit, Dean,_ he swore to himself._ We talked about this._

"I was curious. I have only had sexual intercourse with women."

The breath left Dean's body in a flood of relief, his heart rate returning to normal. Of _course_ that was what it was. This was _Cas_ he was talking about. "Right. Yeah, I didn't think you swung that way."

"I don't swing either way," Cas said matter-of-factly.

Wait. _What_. "Seriously? Like, you're not into anyone at all?"

"In the sense of physical attraction, no. I am an angel, remember. We don't experience these things the way humans do."

"But you... you know. With the demon lady. And then there was the gas station girl..."

"When I was human," Cas corrected. "My body had needs, and I filled them."

"What about Meg? That was one hell of a kiss you gave her."

"Meg and I shared a bond," Cas explained, and Dean scowled back a surge of inexplicable jealousy. "I cared deeply for her, and our kiss was a way for me to express that."

"You sayin' you kissed her over your _strong friendship_?" The idea wasn't so much repulsive to Dean as it was baffling. There was no way Castiel's emotional abilities were _that_ stunted.

"Yes. And no. Angels are not incapable of love, Dean. I did love Meg."

Oh, okay. Now things were starting to make sense again. Though what he saw in Meg, Dean couldn't fathom. "Well, I guess that explains why you didn't kiss _me_ like that."

..._wait_

_SHIT. FUCK. ABORT. ABORT. ABORT._

"I mean-"

Castiel tilted his head. "I didn't think you... swung that way."

"I don't." That came out way too fast and it was a _total fucking lie_ and now his heart was pounding again because he was _terrified Cas was going to figure it out_ and he definitely really _did_ want him to kiss him like that and _how the hell had he not thought about this before_ and-

"Very well." Castiel paused for a moment, and Dean stared, and _damn it_ his eyes were dark, like the sky right after sunset – dark and soulful and _he's going to notice you staring_. "We will talk again when I return."

Dean couldn't stop him this time. By the time he realized he wanted to, the faint sound of wings had already faded and he was left alone, with nothing but a deep set of pockets to jam his hands into before he did something stupid like punch a wall.

_Goddamn it._


End file.
